Ecstasy

Ecstasy

by John Savage

Published by Running Wolf Books

Copyright 2018 John Savage

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means except by prior and express permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used as an element of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter 1: Kidnapped!

“What the hell is going on?”

Tiffany’s protest was slurred by a few too many Margaritas consumed earlier in the evening. So many, in fact, that she had passed out shortly before midnight and had to be helped to the car of a friend to be driven home. When she drifted out of the alcohol induced slumber, she found herself not in her apartment but some room she had never seen before. The only source of light was a single overhead, naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling. In the harsh light, through squinting eyes, she could just make out four walls of concrete blocks. The ceiling was exposed rafters and the floor beneath her felt like concrete, cold and hard.

Trying to rise to a sitting position failed. Groaning and muttering something about too much tequila, she fought the desire to just lie there and surrender to sleep. But something was not right and she struggled to make sense of it. First off, why was she lying on a concrete floor? Was that really a person dressed all in black, including a hood, standing over her? As she tried to move and failed, she became aware that her hands were behind her back and she could not pull them to the front. Childhood memories of “tie up” games came to her and helped her to realize that her hands were tied behind her with rope. That awareness rudely jerked her out of the Margarita haze. “What the hell?” was her utterance as she the room finally came into focus.

Yes, there was a figure standing over her. It was clad in total black from the cloth hood over its head down to the leather boots. Even the hands were covered in what looked like black leather gloves. The figure just stood there, looking down but not speaking. Only the eyes showed but they were shaded by the hood and Tiffany could not even tell their color.

“What the hell are you doing?” she directed to the dark figure, but received no response. Again she tried to sit up and failed. The lack of hands to help, plus a certain lack of equilibrium, undoubted due to the high alcohol levels in her blood, explained her failure. The fact that her ankles were also bound together with rope made the act even harder.

“Crap! What the hell is this? Some kind of stupid joke?” Her tone shaded from bewilderment to anger. “Why the hell am I tied up? Get these ropes off me! Right now!” When the figure made no move to obey, she added, “I’ll scream! I’ll scream my head off!”

Tiffany took a deep breath in preparation, then let out with a half-hearted scream: “Help!” The sound echoed off the concrete walls. She tried again, this time managing a louder attempt. When the figure said nothing, she added some colorful curses that most polite young women would normally not know and certainly not use. She tugged at her hand and shook her shoulders, but the rope around her wrists held. Again she demanded to be release immediately, and was again ignored.

The anger in the bound woman’s voice faded, being replaced with a tone of fear. “If you’re one of the boys from that party and you think it would be fun to tie me up and fuck me, you’ve got another think coming. I’ll have your ass thrown in jail! My father’s a lawyer. He’ll make sure you go to prison for a long time.”

The black figure turned and went to a large bag sitting against the wall next to the door. From it came a coiled length of rope. It was not thick, white in color, and seemed to be made of nylon.

“What the hell do you think you’re going to do with that?” The fear in her voice was unmistakable now, and was reflected in her eyes. They were wide, and the haze of intoxication was completely washed away by the seriousness of her situation. She tried to back up but had trouble struggling across the hard cement floor. The figure was uncoiling the rope and spreading it out as she approached the captive. The figure knelt and took Tiffany’s bare arm in one gloved hand. It was not hard to pull the tied girl into the center of the small room. She then tied the end of the rope around Tiffany’s arm, just above her elbow.

“What…! No way!” Tiffany tried to pull her arm away but the stranger was too strong. The rope was knotted four or five time, and tightly. Ignoring Tiffany’s complaints, the figure went to the bag to fetch another length of rope. That she tied one end of to the other arm. Tiffany looked down in disbelief as the ropes went on.

Taking the rope trailing from her left arm, the figure went to the wall on that side. At the bottom, screwed into a wooden baseboard, was a metal O-ring. The rope was passed through the ring and tied, again with several knots and quite tightly. The figure in black then stepped over Tiffany’s body and took the rope from the other arm. There was an identical ring on the opposite wall. The rope was threaded through that, but, before tying the knots, the rope was pulled. The strong tugging of that rope move Tiffany’s body a few inches sideways, until both that rope and the one connecting her other arm were taut. Only then was the rope knotted.

Breathing harder now, Tiffany was showing her fear by the trembling in her words. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Let me go!”

Calmly and silently, the figure brought forth two more lengths of rope, knelt and placed them on the floor by Tiffany’s feet. In almost a panic, the tied girl tried to kick but was easily blocked, so she tried to move her feet away but the figure placed one knee atop the ankles and held them in place while the end of each rope was tied around an ankle. Only then was the original rope holding her ankles together untied. Tiffany immediately tried to kick her captor. But that was expected and again blocked easily. It took only a couple minutes to thread each of those ropes through another set of rings on the walls. When the ropes were pulled, Tiffany’s legs were forced apart. She fought but could not stop the spreading of her legs into a very wide Vee, which forced the short dress she wore to ride up until it was gathered around her hips, exposing her panties.

The position she was now tied in held her on her back with her tied wrists under her. She jerked at the ropes but none of them would give the slightest. For a long time, the figure stood there, looking down at the helpless young woman, still not saying a word.

“You’re going to fuck me, aren’t you?” Tiffany asked nervously. “Well, go ahead and do it! Get it over with.” Tiffany’s urging for the stranger to perform intercourse on her helpless body was not out of a desire for sex. It was more that, not at all being a virgin, she feared the sex act less than some of the other things that could be done to her while she was powerless. Once a man shoots his load, he calms down and is less likely to do other, more nasty things. Of course, if he was really psycho…